Well, I'm late to this one, as usual, but whatever...
Once, long ago, I believe we spoke about this matter of sunken ships and their attendant draperies of dread (ha, purple prose!). I had to learn how to at least glance upon wooden wrecks without ill effects. I can't say that was particularly easy, but I can peek...a little bit.
The closer one gets away from the sailing vessels and into the steel liners, etc., forget it. I can do without those images, thank Eternity very muchly.
I can't look at a picture of the Titanic, it terrifies me too much.
Yeah...that too. Images of the sinking itself are equally bad for me for obvious reasons. But God...I can't quantify it. I've worked one of those salvage exhibits (even though I'm still absolutely against bringing up anything...but it, the exhibit, felt...comfortable, in the most ridiculous way imaginable), but it never got any easier. It didn't help, of course, there was a picture of the bow right at the entrance to the exhibition. You can't exactly explain to your supervisor that happens to be a major panic trigger, because how can you possibly explain it?
For me, I think one wreck created a sympathetic reaction to other ones. Not the best way to describe the feeling, but I've wrestled with this notion before, and I don't know *what* the fuck to call it. I've just spent the past few years avoiding all of it, because it's easier that way.
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Once, long ago, I believe we spoke about this matter of sunken ships and their attendant draperies of dread (ha, purple prose!). I had to learn how to at least glance upon wooden wrecks without ill effects. I can't say that was particularly easy, but I can peek...a little bit.
The closer one gets away from the sailing vessels and into the steel liners, etc., forget it. I can do without those images, thank Eternity very muchly.
I can't look at a picture of the Titanic, it terrifies me too much.
Yeah...that too. Images of the sinking itself are equally bad for me for obvious reasons. But God...I can't quantify it. I've worked one of those salvage exhibits (even though I'm still absolutely against bringing up anything...but it, the exhibit, felt...comfortable, in the most ridiculous way imaginable), but it never got any easier. It didn't help, of course, there was a picture of the bow right at the entrance to the exhibition. You can't exactly explain to your supervisor that happens to be a major panic trigger, because how can you possibly explain it?
For me, I think one wreck created a sympathetic reaction to other ones. Not the best way to describe the feeling, but I've wrestled with this notion before, and I don't know *what* the fuck to call it. I've just spent the past few years avoiding all of it, because it's easier that way.